The Little Bookshop Lady
by Twilight Antediluvian
Summary: It's a very unusual way to go about convincing a girl of something, but then Draco never plays his whole hand at once. Mostly K , but some T for theme/language.
1. Chapter 1

After the War, many people quit being who they'd once been, in a sense. Everyone reacted in some way or other.

Hermione found herself tired with all the things that had once excited her so. Magic, connected cupboards, _fidelius_-protected locations... it had all been used for ill, it was as tainted as the Muggle world, yet more dangerous.

For three years following the end of the War, she retreated stealthily from the entire Wizarding World.

She'd finished her education – her personality wouldn't allow anything else – and readjusted her parents' memories so they remembered who they, and she, were. Not a word about magic was restored, however. They would be better off without it.

Contact with the boys was always uncertain at best. She refused to hook anything but her kitchen fireplace up to the Floo Network, so when she had time to talk, Harry and Ron were often on missions. The only one she spoke to regularly was Neville, via Muggle letters. He'd asked her to explain how to send them when he had a romantic interest in a Muggle girl. They'd never happened, but he still sent Hermione letters regularly.

Her little antiquarian bookshop off one of London's calmer neighborhoods was all the excitement she needed, thank you very much. She was building up quite the clientele with her thirst for knowledge.

So it was with decided unease she recognised the man who walked in through the door on a dreary autumn afternoon.

There he stood, just in through the dark wood door, beyond the rickety steps of her worn little shop.

It was so unlikely to happen that she blinked several times and pinched herself to be sure she wasn't sleeping at the counter.

Silly that, she'd never dreamed _this_ vividly.

"Malfoy." It was an utterance of the most sincere surprise.

"Granger." He wasn't surprised by the less than welcoming atmosphere. Probably – or so she thought – having expected it.

"Uhm, come in."

He looked around. Didn't look too impressed, which made her a little angry – but considering who it was, and that he was outwardly courteous otherwise – she allowed him to be a socialite prat, but no worse than that.

"I've come with a proposal for you, Granger."

Well, he obviously wasn't paying a social call, but he wouldn't have much to offer her that could entice her, surely?

A small silence passed.

"Yes?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, but she wasn't sure if he was gathering courage, or perhaps patience for some imagined slight.

"I would like you to come work for my company."

Hah!

"How about I just tell you 'no' right now, so you can go back to whatever you were doing before you started hallucinating about the impossible?"

"I was building an empire of course," he said with bleak irony, "what did you expect?" He sounded bored, too. "I have an offer you can't refuse."

Double-Hah!

"I highly doubt that, Malfoy." She sneered a little at the thought.

People like him were what had made her leave the Wizarding World in the first place.

He looked at her posture – she'd placed her hands on her hips and tried to look as no-nonsense as possible, counteracting the hint of curiousity she felt about his "unrefusable" offer.

"All right then. Goodbye, Granger."

He was so calm, when she'd at least expected some surprise, or an additional try, if his offer was so unrefusable as he claimed.

"You know how to contact me if you change your mind."

And then he was out that door, while her brain was still playing catch-up.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Dear Neville_

_You wouldn't believe what just happened! Malfoy, that insufferable git, just walked in through the front door of my shop and offered me a job._

_One would assume he missed the sign on the door saying "Hermione Granger, Second Hand Books and Antiquarian" but then, he may just have been a prick, just as he used to._

_I can't quite let it go, though. He was cheesy enough to offer something 'I couldn't refuse' but he never said what (I believe I may have scared him off). I'll admit that I'm curious, but I'd never stoop to working for Malfoy, anyway, so it's pointless._

_How are you doing? What's new in the world? Is madam Sprout well? You know you're my only link to Wizarding news, so tell me everything!_

_ Sincerely  
><em>_ Hermione Granger_

* * *

><p><em>Hi Hermione<em>

_It sounds strange, I haven't seen anything in the news about the Malfoys lately, but they're always up to something, I suppose._

_I'm doing well. Mary and I are officially going out now! Madam Sprout was so happy, and she even said I could teach the First Years on my own next week. I don't know if I'll manage. What if they don't listen to me?_

_ Your friend  
><em>_ Neville Longbottom_

* * *

><p>Whatever it was that blonde prat had wanted her to do, it was useless to think about it. He was nasty and evil. Much better, then, to hope Neville had good luck juggling his new girlfriend and his Herbology apprenticeship.<p>

It was useless, but hard to forget.

Curiousity was a thing Hermione was used to satiating.

Books tended to give answers to the questions they posed, and if not, then there was always another book to look in.

Now, there was no way out and the more she rationalised it, the less it wanted to be kept contained.

Of course, in the end she gave up. Her mind suggested that she wasn't actually accepting his offer, that would be ridiculous when she had her own place to run.

She just wanted to know what he was offering in the first place.

* * *

><p>"Mister Malfoy, there's a witch who insists on speaking to you."<p>

Could it be? He'd staged it as best he could, considering he really had nothing on her. Very few spoke to him directly, his secretary was much more pleasant and quite skilled. Most found him intimidating and were fooled by the secretary's perfectly sweet manners into thinking she would be an easier target. It was only marginally true.

But yes, from the moment he entered the room he noticed her frizzy bush of … well not so frizzy anymore, perhaps, but nevertheless hair in dire need of taming.

Hermione Granger, peering at him through the fire.

She'd taken the bait and now he had to reel in very carefully.

"Miss Granger, what can I do for you?"

"I've decided to hear you out. I doubt you really have anything to tempt me, but it's at least worth a few minutes of my time."

She was just bursting with curiousity and trying to convince herself that she wasn't. He'd planted it there, himself. She was on guard for physical and magical means of manipulation, but he was a social creature. She wasn't, but that did not make her immune to the pull of human weakness.

"Very well. Come through, then."

He had to restrain himself from rubbing his hands with glee. It was all going according to plan.


	3. Chapter 3

She stepped through the flames, full of uncertainty.

Why do this, when she was perfectly content with her bookshop and her Muggle lifestyle? It just felt a little bit underhanded to give Malfoy false hope, even if he was a menace and a terror.

Menace and terror were the least visible of his traits as he showed her around, however.

If this was indeed Malfoy, he wasn't the same as he'd been three years ago.

Appearance fresh and professional, voice just distant enough to reinforce that image and yet very attentive in his mannerisms. Though, all things considered, he was effectively a company CEO. Assuming it translated to the Wizarding World, which it most likely didn't.

"Please, come sit down."

She looked at the pair of huge armchairs and decided that it would be rude not to, considering his relative friendliness. It felt unusual to slouch in a comfy armchair in front of a fireplace with Draco Malfoy for company.

What could she make of it? He was silent for a moment, giving her a breath to examine her feelings.

She was uncomfortable in his presence, knowing who he had once been, but felt that she shouldn't be, for so far he'd been nothing but a gentleman.

"We have a research center in need of a proper researcher," he interrupted her musings. "We're the best there is, outside of the Department of Mysteries."

She nodded to confirm that she'd heard him, but made no further comment.

"For many, I'll have to admit, it's a jumping board into the Department, but I pride myself that we're the only place outside of Hogwarts they ever accept trainees from."

"Charming, but I wasn't planning on becoming a Ministry employee."

Was that all his unrefusable offer was? Research assistant? A letdown.

"No, I am well aware of your feelings toward the government. You made them rather clear when you cut all ties to the Wizarding World."

She hadn't said anything about that! Not that it wasn't true, but...

"What I need is someone capable of taking scattered material and putting it in proper order."

They looked each other in the eye. She shook her head and sighed.

"Research assistant or secretary? You really disappoint me, Malfoy. This is a waste of both our time." She rose and nodded graciously. "It's been a pleasant talk. I hope you find what you're looking for."

Because she certainly wasn't intrigued enough to leave her comfortable bookshop to be a labrat in a Malfoy factory.

"You misunderstand me, miss Granger."

Hm?

"...?" She let the silence carry her questions.

"I am not looking for a research assistant or a secretary. I could find that anywhere. I didn't come to lure you out of your hole for something as foolish as that."

It did put her words in his mouth.

She stayed silent.

The ball was in his court, after all.

"I would like you as my head researcher."

She smiled weakly and settled back down. "Well, now I'm at least curious."


	4. Chapter 4

"I would like you as my head researcher."

There was a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Well, now I'm at least curious."

_Yes!_ He didn't let his victory show in his features as he nodded solemnly. She was such a sensitive case.

But she was fooling herself, she'd been curious from the beginning. She'd just lost interest for a moment there, when he was trying out her boundaries. That was a dangerously fine line to walk, between trying her patience and not making her suspicious.

"The facilities are good and the funds are exceptional. The personnel are..."

"I wouldn't get to chose who I work with, then?" She sounded sceptical.

Ouch. He hadn't considered that a hurdle to overcome and frowned.

"I neither can nor will fire my employees, but I imagine quite a few will move on soon, which is why I needed you. You can be allowed to replace them as you please, but it's something we'll need to discuss."

Taken aback by his unyielding attitude, at first, but a part of her liked the loyalty he was implying.

The stray thought that _he _might have anything, anything at all, in common with a Hufflepuff distracted her for a moment. It was hard not to let that amusement show on her face.

"I could probably live with that, but the offer is by no means impossible to refuse."

He smirked and rose. "Oh, that's just because you don't know what you'd be refusing. May I invite you to Carreg Manor?"

He held out an arm to her. Wavered for a moment under the incredulous look she sent it. Malfoy playing the gentleman? Who'd have thought.

Oh well, if he would have it that way, she'd not give him the gratification of seeing her refuse his token of … whatever it was.

A white flag of sorts.

She slipped her hand under his arm and took hold.

"I'm ready." And dying to see what would come next.

He'd said the point lay in the premises. That was a lot to boast. Then again, it was a manor. She didn't know anyone else who'd spend enough money on arcane research to house it in a bloody manor!

Sideways-Apparating was never comfortable. His firm hold on her arm was a relief when she stumbled at the end.

Falling in dirt would have been a good way for him to get a laugh out of her, but something was different about this man, compared to the Malfoy she'd known.

And then her mind went blank.

All the colours of autumn flanked her. Bushes and trees hedged a grand and well-kept garden. Flowers of all sorts – she immediately recognised some rare wizarding varieties – Neville would die from awe when he heard that she...

There it stopped again. She wasn't going to accept this job.

The bookshop. Her apartment. Her customers. She wouldn't abandon them to come back to the Wizarding World. Not when it had proven that it was no better, nay, even worse and more dangerous than the Muggle one.

She was merely looking at things she could never have. She should've been honest about that from the start.

"I... I'm sorry, Malfoy. I can't do this."

The face that had been plastered with a content smirk for most of the evening dropped all pretense in pure shock.

"Why ever not?"

"Because I'd really love to work here, but... I just can't. I'm sorry. Thanks for letting me take up your time, though."

She snaked her arm away from his and was just about to Apparate away when he grabbed hold of it.

Grey eyes were fixed on her face.

"You're planning on running off with no more excuse than that? At least tell me why."

Breath hitched, heart beat and throat dried up. She couldn't tell him the truth. She couldn't tell him _anything_ that made sense.

Seconds of paralyzed silence went by, a deer-in-headlights moment if she'd ever had one.

In the end he let go.

"Whatever."

Frightened, as much by herself as by this place of too many delights, she pushed back the tears that wanted to overwhelm her and hung her head.

"I'm really sorry."

Then she was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

She... she'd just run off? Because she wanted to accept his offer? It was insane and … somehow he could understand it.

Granger...

Gryffindor, but when it mattered her weakness overcame her. So much for the bravery of the Lion's brood.

Never consort with the enemy, never collaborate with a Slyterin. Blaise had been right, it was an impossible task.

He'd been on the right track, on speaking terms when they'd never been before, almost had her in the palm of his hand. Almost.

Something had happened when she entered the garden. It was a pretty and useful garden, but hardly something to provoke a reaction out of a professional such as herself, surely?

He hadn't even had time to stun her with the extensive laboratories, the Astronomy Tower, the brilliant living quarters... he'd been sure they would win her over, yet the mere exterior for some reason made her go completely cuckoo.

'I'd love to work here' she'd said. So the only reasonable explanation was that working for _him_ had never really been an option.

Surely there were ways around that?

She was shortsighted, for someone with such brains. Running a business required more creative thinking.

He admitted, to himself, that he could never do what he was asking her to do: lead an establishment of stubborn, highly intelligent and competitive wizards and witches. They worked on _her_ wavelength. He could manipulate them to a certain extent and he could pay them to figure things out, but he could never understand them.

Things like this, her sudden exodus, left him a bit confounded.

Funny thing was, despite his own motives, after deciding that he wanted her in that particular position, he couldn't settle for anyone else.

So how, then, could he persuade her to overcome her dislike for him?

Games. His forte, really.

* * *

><p><em> Dear Neville<em>

_I gave in. You know that job Malfoy wanted me to take? Of course I'd never, but I wanted to see what he had to offer._

_It was so stupid of me, even if it's Malfoy I shouldn't treat him so unfairly. I never intended to take the job, I shouldn't have let my curiosity get the better of me._

_You would have loved the grounds he showed me, the garden was full of interesting and rare flowers. I saw, among others, one that I vaguely recognised, but I couldn't put a name to. A very fragile flower, long stems and bell-formed, fire-coloured flowers in clusters at the end. Primulae family? But I've never seen that shade before._

_And how did your first lesson go? I'm sure they didn't give you too much trouble._

_Speaking of which, how are you and Mary getting on?_

_Sincerely  
><em>_Hermione_

* * *

><p><em>Hi Hermione<em>

_I understand, but I'm sure you can't have been very bad to him. It's just not in you._

_The flowers, I think were Primula Wizardosa. They're very rare, only grows in a few spots here in Britain._

_Why did you decline the job, by the way? You never said._

_My first lesson was a disaster! Were we that wild at eleven? The whole class stormed in and poked at everything they could get their hands on. My poor plants! And I had a batch there that was going to be potions ingredients for Snape. I don't know if I can save them._

_I'm going to have to get back to you later. Mary wants to go out tonight and if I'm to have any time spare I must save those plants!_

_Your friend  
><em>_Neville_

She laughed a little at that. Snape still could – and occasionally did – make Neville's knees shiver.

Why had she declined the offer? Wasn't that obvious? She had her place, her books, her reputation. Her own, not Malfoy's.

She didn't _want_ to be stuck in a position where she was at anyone's mercy, much less _his_.

And to give up the bookshop?

She stroked the back of an old friend affectionately. It was a rare copy of an old tome on philosophy. She was most likely one of the few who knew the value of what rested under her hands.

It had come to her when an old lady sold off some of her belongings. Hermione had tried to pay full price, but the old woman had just shook her head and pushed half the money back in Hermione's hands.

They'd had tea every day for a year, until the old lady died from a heart attack last winter. Hermione had been alone with the woman's few relatives at her funeral.

Lonely people, leading lonely lives.

Not that she had many friends of her own, now that she had retreated to the Muggle world, but she had her books at least. Selling her bookshop was not an option.


	6. Chapter 6

_ Miss Granger_

_I write to apologise if I offended you in any way during your visit. I know we have a rocky past but I hoped we would both be able to see past it._

He glared coldly at the parchment. Words. What words were suitable? What would make her come and what would make her turn away?

Perhaps it was time to try a less patient approach?

_I find all other candidates lacking. It must be you, Granger. Name your price._

He signed it and sealed it.

It was silly. All for a game, to begin with, but Blaise had been right. He'd become complacent and needed a challenge, someone to make him see a different point of view.

Wondering if he was becoming a doddering fool before he'd lived even a quarter century, he called his personal falcon and left the message in its claws.

"Take care with that, Frurie, and do come back in one piece. No knowing what that witch might do when you show up on her doorstep."

* * *

><p>Hermione yelped with fright as the falcon swooped in through the doorway to dump its burden on her desk.<p>

Whoever it was, she'd get him so bad he wouldn't be able to sit for a week.

Sending letter by wizarding post! To a Muggle shop! She smiled weakly at her customer.

"Sorry, I have a friend who is overly fond of his birds. Rather well trained, but sometimes I wonder if I wouldn't rather he used something less aggressive."

"Oh, like trained doves, you mean?"

The woman had no brains at all. Of course you could train a falcon, but hardly the same way you trained a dove. They weren't on the same set of charts!

If it would make her swallow the lie easier, though, Hermione would go with whatever idiocy she sprouted.

"Yes. If you'll excuse me, I believe this may be urgent. Here are your books, madam, and thank you for calling!"

She watched the woman exit and breathed a sigh of relief before following to close the door and turn the "Open" sign to "Closed".

It was parchment, but she'd already assumed it would be. Wizarding standard issue and all that.

Sealed with an unknown crest, though the snake and the raven she thought she could make out made it a bit ominous.

After fetching her wand, pulling the curtains and performing a set of spells to assure it wasn't enchanted or hexed in any way, Hermione relaxed enough to open it.

_ Miss Granger_

_I write to apologise if I offended you in any way during your visit. I know we have a rocky past but I hoped we would both be able to see past it._

_I find all other candidates lacking. It must be you, Granger. Name your price._

_ Draco Malfoy_

Short almost to the point of rudeness, but they'd never conversed easily. Why on Earth such stubbornness?

Lovely gardens, possibly the most promising non-Ministry career for her... but under Draco Malfoy?

Being his latest pet project, or acquisition, or step toward glory... whatever the reason for his offer, she wasn't sure she wanted to be involved in it.

She hung around the shop for most of the day, pulling out books and reading passages at random. Almost all turned out to be such she'd already read once.

After several hours spent leafing through her beloved collection, she came upon a line that made her think.

"_The future is not something we enter. The future is something we create._" it simply said.

He _had_ said 'name your price'. That meant _everything_ was up for discussion.

Perhaps it didn't have to be such a nasty deal after all.

Then she shook her head.

"I can't be seriously thinking about accepting that, can I?"

But it made sense. Her life felt a bit dull, when presented with the tantalising option of well-funded research. If she could coax him into giving her free reign over her time...

Then she'd see how irreplacable she _really_ was. If one of those "lesser qualified" people could perhaps be made to fit the post, when she made too much of a ruckus.

She smiled.

For the first time in a long while, Hermione was genuinely impatient.


	7. Chapter 7

Draco was not used to being disturbed at dinner time. Had it been one of his assistants he would have fired the blubbering idiot immediately.

As it was, the house-elf shook like a leaf by as little as a stern gaze. There was no need to punish the creature, it would do that all on its own.

"Yes, Iffy?"

"You have a visitor, master Malfoy sir, it's Hermione Granger, sir."

Indeed? He glanced at his food for a moment.

Options, options. He wasn't ready, but if she'd delivered herself into his hands so willingly, perhaps he didn't need to be.

"Clear this away. Prepare a meal for two. Nothing too gaudy, but definitely three courses." His eyes left the little creature to its "yessir"s and travelled to the door. "I do believe I have a lady to entertain."

Not that the word 'lady' was applicable to Hermione Granger, something he was reminded of as he entered the reception hall.

He had to choke back disgust – or was it laughter? – at her unfashionable, baggy ensemble. Brown and grey, with a hideously unmatching blue pair of pants. Utterly Muggle.

"Miss Granger."

"Malfoy." She sounded excited. And shrewd. Whatever had changed her mind, it wasn't necessarily good for him. He had put himself in a precarious situation.

Damned be that he hadn't come up with any better plan of attack.

"Will you come and dine with me? I was just about to have my evening tea." Unwilling, but he'd known she would be. "One thinks better after a meal, if you're here about my offer."

Conceding to logic, she followed him into the dining room he'd just come out of. The house-elves had cleared every scrap away already. He never did like anything less than perfection.

He couldn't help but compare his own flawless robes to her shoddy, crumpled Muggle clothes.

Granger had no place here. Rooms like this one were meant for ladies who actually lived up to the title in attire and mannerisms, not just gender.

He held her chair for her, then sat down, in no way showing his distaste.

"Iffy."

A loud "pop" disturbed the silence. "Yes master Malfoy?"

"Our starters, please."

Now the distaste was hers and he vaguely remembered that she'd had some club or cause which included knitting hideous socks for their former house-elf Dobby. He'd shown up every Christmas, to Draco's annoyance, parading a new set of badly knit socks and acting the laughing stock of Slytherin.

"Let's not squabble over house-elf rights at the dining table, hm, Granger?"

"Oh! Sorry, was I that obvious?"

He simply nodded, but she couldn't quite let it go.

"They're such poor creatures, though. They shouldn't have to be bound in one-sided servitude."

"..."

They looked at each other in silence, both certain the other could not be made to agree. Draco sighed and decided to precipitate any further argument.

"If all goes to plan, we will have as much time as we wish to argue. Tonight might be good-natured, I hope."

Another smile. It made her face brighter and distracted him from the less appealing parts of her current appearance.

"I'll hold my tongue for now, but I don't forget easily."

"I've noticed."

He was tempted to mention the time when he enlarged her teeth, but had a feeling she might still be holding a grudge. No point making this harder than it had to be.

"Well, I was thinking that we could probably come up with a mutually beneficial solution..."

"_Granger_."

He accepted much, but he had to draw the line somewhere. She looked surprised at the annoyed note to her name.

"Yes?"

"_Never_ discuss business during dinner. It's like putting your fingers in your food: children do it sometimes, but are taught to know better."

Flustered. Did Muggles not teach their children manners? "But you said...?"

"I suggested dinner and _then_ a chat about the future. Certainly never both at the same time."

After a moment's silent war, she laughed.

"Well then, what _do _socialites like yourself talk about at dinner? Just so I don't make any more terrible mistakes."


	8. Chapter 8

He took her seriously. Her last sentence had been irony, a joke meant to ease the air and take him down a notch. Little hope of that, it seemed.

"Most things are acceptable during a meal. There are just some finer points to observe."

"Like not talking about things that might disturb the appetite, such as business?"

"Such as not talking about business, of course."

She smirked a little.

"So, this paté..." Food had to be a safe aisle to pursue. "...what kind is it?"

"Blunt, but within acceptable forms."

She had to blink several times before she realised what he was getting at.

"What? Oh. Well, I'm not exactly aiming to be a connoisseur of dinner parties."

He nodded. "I would assume it's duck. Mother has a preference for it."

She held back the childish comment she wanted to make about that, considering he'd been gracious, if haughty, so far.

"Narcissa Malfoy..." she vaguely remembered a distasteful woman, but decided to leave her the benefit of the doubt. "How is your mother, then?"

"Mother dearest is on permanent vacation with Father, visiting the extended Zabini family in Italy, but you needn't fake concern, I know our family has never been on your list of priorities. We're making polite conversation, not politics."

Oh, he was just infuriating.

"I was just trying to be nice, you don't need to make a hen out of a feather, Malfoy. I was never on your list of priorities either, but for some reason I'm here."

She almost added 'having a bloody dinner date with a self-satisfied ferret', but decided to show him _some_ restraint, whether he deserved it or not.

"Although being too honest isn't advisable either," he returned, making colour rise in her cheeks.

Anger was bad. She breathed deep and let it slip through her fingers until she was calm again. Then she looked up and found him staring at her.

"What was that?"

She blushed again. Perhaps he needed some more blunt truth, then. "Mister Malfoy, I've played this game of yours long enough. I don't care if it's improper to talk about business at the table, I didn't come here to have dinner."

"But you are."

"Doesn't matter." She waved it away. "I came to tell you that I'm interested in your offer, but under _my _conditions."

Narrowed eyes. Yes, let's see how far she could push this, now.

"I'm listening."

So it was merely a suggestion, that part about not discussing business. She should've known.

_Creating the future_.

"I'll be a hired consultant. I work for myself, not for you. My results are my own, though I'll gladly allow you to use them."

"For a small fee, I take it?"

"I'm hardly impossible. My time will also be my own. You can throw things you want done my way and suggest a deadline, but I'll do whatever I want with the time I'm given. And your deadlines had better be reasonable."

"Sounds rather exaggerated to me."

Of course. She was really asking... no, _demanding_ she was! She was _demanding_ full control, despite working on his premises with his people.

"Hardly. You're the one who wanted me in that position. That's my price."

And it was the only way this would be an acceptable risk.


	9. Chapter 9

That was her price, hm?

Draco leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. It was a terrible solution. He'd have no control whatsoever.

She was a Gryffindor, though, and a loyalist, to boot. She'd deliver on whatever she promised.

The brightest witch of her age, or so they'd said when they fawned over her.

It would be good for his public image, too. He'd never really expected her to say yes, no matter what he threw at her.

"You will keep me updated of your progress."

He had to have some sort of control.

"When I see fit. You won't decide how I do my research."

Stubborn bloody woman! Why did it have to be _her_?

"At least twice a week. And no illicit business, I'm trying to keep on the public's good side, here."

She laughed. He opened his eyes and looked at her smirk. Beauty came in many shapes. He _refused_ to let it show on his face.

"The irony!"

"At least _I_ haven't broken into Snape's potions cupboard."

She blushed. The old goat had always suspected that the trio, led in that case by their best potions brewer, had stolen some of his ingredients in their second year. He'd been right.

"Whatever you say, Malfoy. And I'd get to decide what new staff comes in, when the old leave, yes?"

He shuddered inwardly at the thought, but sighed and nodded.

"Assuming I have veto. It's supposed to be my people, after all."

"True, but I'm the one who has to work with them."

Who'd taught the girl to be so sneaky? She was supposed to be bookish and nerdy, not shrewd.

He sighed. "I'll draft a contract. Give it a month and then see if it works."

Then she actually smiled at him. It was so surprising, amidst all the professional bickering, that he was caught quite off guard and had to hide his face behind the napkin before he blushed like a little girl.

She didn't laugh at him, so presumably his feint was successful.

Instead, those big, brown eyes were glittering like a child's on Christmas morning.

"May I see the premises, then?"

They'd made quite an impression, apparently. He could have used it to greater advantage.

"It's in darkness now, there's little point in going there." She didn't think of everything, after all. That was a relief. "But if you like, I'll show you your office tomorrow and you can get started as soon as you like."

He'd have to pull strings to get there, but his house-elves were very efficient.

They bickered about details through the main course. He found it an easier atmosphere than her attempts at talking about nothing, earlier.

Despite breaking all the rules.


	10. Chapter 10

"Come," he said when they'd both run out of words at the end. "I think we both need a break from that."

Too right, she thought, but was much too excited to do anything but nod. He'd practically just floated along with whatever she said. Of course, he'd dropped a few rules, but far less than she expected.

She'd have her own research lab. Some people to oversee, sure, that would be the biggest challenge... but her own lab! Her own time, her own rules!

She was so immersed in the possibilities, her mind was completely distant when Malfoy tapped her shoulder.

That her mind had left this plane was clear. She used to do it to her parents, whenever an idea was fixed in her mind, but to do it to Malfoy, under the circumstances...

"Sorry, I kinda got..."

"In a land far, far away." There was no judgement in the tone apart from amusement.

"Yes." The admission was embarrassing.

The night and the stars – when had it grown so dark? – were enchanting. The balcony was a dream in white and green, dusted grey from the darkness.

It was absolutely beautiful. Far from the cities and the lamplights, the stars glittered mischievously above. She couldn't remember them being so clear before. Perhaps as a child she'd seen the sky so bright.

The blue-black darkness had a comforting quality. It stretched as far as the eye could see, though there were the little lights of windows gleaming in the far distance.

"The Malfoy grounds stretch five miles in any direction around the main house."

"Spoilsport."

She'd only whispered it. He was such a practical person, sometimes.

"What?"

"I don't need to know that the grounds are extensive. I don't care if they belong to you or your father or a conglomerate of thieves. I just want to look."

And that, it seemed, he could understand. Despite being brought up to believe in the superiority of his family, Draco Malfoy was human.

* * *

><p>The unexpected eyes that scanned the smaller Malfoy dining room weren't too surprised to see it full and left. More surprised, perhaps, to see the puddings left untouched to go cold.<p>

Either Draco had been unusually impatient, or whatever girl he entertained was exceptionally beautiful.

He was a right glutton of some things, that one.

It was less luck and more plan that he never let the entertainment end on the table. The man was shifty as spring weather. Rarely sticking to the plans he made, but the last insane idea always worked better than the previous one would have.

Slight noise from the balcony.

So. Romantic stargazing. How common.

Not that she hadn't once let herself be swept away by his Manor, his riches and his persuasiveness, but that was long ago.

Now, she raised her voice to carry out there.

"Draco, dear. Sorry for interrupting your evening."

She made sure the balcony was out of her vision as she nostalgically studied an old artifact on the mantelpiece. No need to scar her mind with pictures of Draco's girls, after all. They were just toys.

He hadn't undressed, if the speed and state at which he joined her were to be believed.

"Looking dashing today, Drake."

"'Evening, Pansy. Any news from Blaise?"

Her husband-to-be had little to spare for Draco, but they were business partners and social friends. Pansy herself had once loved the blonde, but it had been childish infatuation with his manners and money. Blaise was the better choice. He would not always be distracted by work.

"Of course. We'd like you to come dine with us tomorrow evening, Draco." She rested a light hand on his arm. "Whatever you and Blaisie decided on last time, he wants to know how you've managed"

Draco raised that eyebrow he'd always try to stare people down with.

"Oh he does?"

"He sounded a bit smug to me, so I do hope you're doing well."

"You can tell him not to worry. Unfortunately, I'm a bit busy tomorrow. My new Head of the research section will be settling in."

"Lovely." Why would Draco ever bring something so boring up in conversation? He knew she had no interest in his or her fiancée's business deals. She wasn't wedding Blaise to take over his empire. As long as the income from it kept her living comfortably, he could hire whoever he wanted. Draco much more so.

"I'll come over in a day or two, Pansy."

It was definitive and no one shed any tears that it wouldn't be sooner.

"All right then, Drakie dear. See you then."

They kissed goodbye and separated, but despite being bored Pansy wasn't stupid. He'd wanted to say _something_ with that comment. She just had to figure out _what_.


	11. Chapter 11

The birds were singing outside Hermione's window when she woke up.

A restful feeling had settled in her stomach the night before, as all the excitement simmered down. Her new position would let her do all the things she'd dreamed of back in school.

Even if it didn't work out, she wouldn't have to stay. There were only upsides to this arrangement, really. Once, she'd have said Malfoy was the greatest downside, but she'd come to appreciate that he wasn't such a prick anymore.

She would even figure out a way to keep the bookshop, hoping her salary allowed it.

They had set a meeting for ten and he had charmed her a Portkey for the manor.

At quarter to ten, she dropped her latest letter for Neville in the postbox on the corner. At one minute to ten she stood ready with the Portkey in her hand, waiting for it to activate.

The spin-and-swirl was so classically Wizarding World that she grinned a little to herself as she stumbled onto the much too green grass of Carreg Manor for the second time in a few days.

He was waiting, still dressed in straight, black robes with silver details. Wasn't that a bit warm, even though autumn wasn't as hot as summer had been?

Then she had to remind herself that, even if she had spent almost three years leading a Muggle lifestyle, most had not. Cooling charms were standard, after all.

It suited him, though it made him look more like his father.

"Malfoy."

"Granger. Welcome."

"This place is so beautiful. Neville would love it."

He blinked a few times, as if he hadn't a clue what she was talking about.

"Neville Longbottom," she explained, making him look terrified.

"You're going out with Longbottom?"

She had to laugh at that. Such a Malfoy thing to assume, and such a Malfoy reaction. "Hardly. We're still friends, though. He's apprenticing to madam Sprout at Hogwarts."

"You almost made me question my choice for a moment, there. Longbottom isn't exactly the cream of the crop."

That made her spark.

"He's a brilliant herbologist and a good friend. He might not be the best when it comes to Potions, but he's loyal and good-hearted."

She was aware that colour had risen to her cheeks, but he was picking on the one friend she truly had left.

Harry and Ron would always be her first friends, they'd have a special bond until the day they all died, but that didn't mean they couldn't drift apart and it was precisely what they'd done.

"Simmer down, Granger. Are you sure you're not in love with Longbottom?"

"Perfectly so. I'd rather not make a complete hodgepodge of my life by involving any men in it, though Neville would probably make a better choice than _some_."

She tried to send a pointed glare his way, but received only arrogant disinterest in return.

"Why does your vow of chastity not surprise me?"

Bristling, she kept her hands firmly balled into fists, but just as firmly lodged by her sides.

"_You_ are an unsurprisingly simple soul, Malfoy, so your opinion is hardly worth the effort."

The bloody menace had the audacity to _laugh_ at her anger. He did look more human when he laughed, but she'd hang the bugger out to dry before she told him that.

They walked in relative silence up to the solid double doors, at least agreeing to disagree.

Hermione assumed the doors were bespelled, because they started opening slowly as the two ascended and were completely open by the time they reached the top step. Hermione resisted an urge to test whether they would start closing if she walked back down.

It was quaint, if such a word could be used for something so massive. The entrance hall was sparsely decorated, but it was large and held tables with all sorts of projects.

"This is the showroom," Draco explained.

She thought about that for a moment and had to consider it a good idea.

"It means the … _we_ get left alone to our work when we need it."

That could prove valuable. She'd never been much of a speaker in front of strangers anyway. Nor very good at working with someone looking over her shoulder. A special room to present interesting things to potential customers was good.

She nodded approvingly as she walked through the area. Good, solid start. She felt a sad little smile creep up on her as she realised that Harry would have disliked the place. Too stark for his tastes. Ron, well, his head was chaotic enough not to need the clutter, but he'd complain just because the place belonged to Malfoy.

The rest was also methodically arranged. Whoever came before her had been, if not a brilliant scientist, then perhaps at least a brilliant organizer.

Everything had its separate section: potions, arithmancy, runes, even obscure branches like earth magic and starcharting, which Hermione had trouble seeing the point of.

It was huge. Just as huge as the exterior promised, with rooms the size of grand ballrooms and little rooms for special occasions, it was all there.

She could barely breathe as he showed her an airy, well-furnished room with a little potions station, lots of well-stashed bookcases and several huge tables and told her this was to be her office.

"It's almost too much."

She didn't belong in places like this, but she'd chosen to risk everything just because she'd loved the garden that first day.

Insane was what she was, but happily so.


	12. Chapter 12

"I take it you're pleased?"

The look on her face spoke volumes and he had trouble keeping the glee out of his voice.

It wasn't about winning a bet, anymore. It was about flooring Hermione Granger, who had stolen into his world and settled firmly in this room before she ever saw it for the first time.

If he could win her over, it wouldn't feel so bad that he had lost all choice.

"I am."

She was near-breathless.

It was a beautiful sound.

At least her clothes weren't as horrid as the day before, he conceded. Nothing a real lady would wear – she'd certainly drawn more than one atonished gaze as he showed her around in the snazzy complex – but she seemed oblivious to the ruckus or its cause.

"I have one thing left to show you, then, and I'll leave you in peace."

"There's _more_?"

She'd forgotten that she was supposed to be angry with him for putting Longbottom down earlier. She'd forgotten that he was once her enemy and all about enlarged teeth or even, he shuddered at the mere recollection, his brief period as a ferret.

The amazement in her voice was like watching a child on Christmas. It was just too easy.

"Your living quarters here. They're down the hall."

"Living quarters?"

He couldn't help but let a smirk slip. It _was_ perfect. He'd won. He'd won! Whatever Blaise did, the first round belonged to Draco himself.

"I have a vague memory that some of your colleagues stay up at odd hours to watch their potions or correct their numbers or whatever. I've taken measures to assure that you don't have to go too far to find a bed once those are finished."

Wide-eyed and smiling. So earnest, so appreciative.

She thanked him so gratefully for being considerate. Followed him like a dog to the chambers down the hall and gasped in awe at them.

Like taking candy from a five-year-old.

Along with amusement and the sense of victory, he found a certain pride in showing off. He always had.

She wasn't socially apt, but she would do very well in her role, fulfill her piece of the puzzle. Merlin, he might end up having to thank Blaise for all of this. That would be the king of ironies. Assuming Blaise didn't manage to muck it all up, before then. You never knew, with that shrewd bastard.

That reminded him...

"I would like to discuss some things later on. Dinner, perhaps?"

She laughed. "But you don't discuss business over dinner. I have too much to do to spend an entire evening figuring out what's acceptable conversation."

It was a skill she'd need later, but he didn't want to dump that fact on her just yet. She was skittish about such things, he'd learned.

"I'll stop by, then, and see how you're settling in."

It was as good an excuse as any to spy on her comings and goings. And if any of the brats in the place decided she wasn't good enough, he'd be there to back her up.

If someone had said that to him even a year ago, he'd sneered at them, but this precaution wasn't because she was Granger. He couldn't let anyone question his choice of a leader, or risk coming off as foolish.

Everybody already knew he had a weakness for women, they'd assume the obvious.

Draco didn't mind.


	13. Chapter 13

Two days later, while Hermione was brushing up on her Potions skills, the door behind her opened without warning.

"Malfoy," she growled, "learn to knock! I'm busy."

"I'd pass the message along," said a dark voice, "but I don't know when I'll be seeing Draco next."

She took her eyes off the potion just long enough to look at the door. Dark hair, dark skin. No one she could place.

Still, the man had rudely rushed into her office.

Her office that she was still in love with, but apparently needed privacy-charms on.

"Who are you, then?"

"Zabini. Blaise Zabini, a friend of Draco's."

"Hm?" She'd turned her attention back to the potion. "Oh yes, I remember Parkinson saying something about you a few days ago. Her fiancée, I believe? Congratulations."

Draco had asked her to stay on the balcony while he took care of something. She hadn't meant to listen, but it had drifted out rather well, the only sound in a quiet night.

There wasn't much feeling in her words. Gryffindors and Slytherins had never got along and it was mere good manners that made her say anything at all.

Was the concoction the proper green colour? Did it need another stir, perhaps? Should she have added another ear of Newt, to give it more potency?

"Draco has not mentioned me then?"

She shrugged. "No, I don't remember anything about that."

Her eyes never strayed from the potion. If the rude man had burst into her office at the wrong time, without asking permission, she felt no need to be more than barely civil.

"It may come as a shock to you then, miss Granger, that I must reveal a rather nasty truth to you."

Bloody hell. What was it _now_? She sighed, uncorking several bottles with a flick of her wand and draining the liquid into them with another. It would just have to do.

Corks back in the bottles, she turned to face him.

"So, what's this horrible thing I must hear?"

Lies and deceit of any kind was her abhorrence, but Slytherins seemed to do it as easily as they breathed.

"Draco and I made a certain bet just over a week ago... concerning yourself."

She looked at him, pursed lips and hands on her hips, and shook her head.

"That's all right. I didn't know it was you, but he already told me. And I certainly couldn't care less what silliness you spend your spare time with. I'm here for the job, not for Malfoy."

That seemed to surprise the dark man, leaving a crease in his forehead.

"I hadn't expected him to be that forward. He told you everything?"

"Your games aren't my concern, just don't involve me in any more of them."

A moment's stalemate while the man gathered his wits. She didn't have time for this, and told him so, including where the door was if he'd leave it in the same state as he found it.

It was not even quite civil, but she couldn't be bothered with their childish fancies.

"What did he do to convince you?"

There was a hint of curiosity in his voice. Was the man blind? She was doing her own thing, with her own time, being her own master.

"This place was too good to resist," she admitted. "I'm keeping my own place, for now, but it's good to do something with my knowledge again."

"I never took you for a whore, Granger, how disappointing."

She'd never expected him to be so crude with no good reason, even if he was a Slytherin. Malfoy had turned out decently enough, but perhaps not everyone was given a chance at redemption. She folded her arms, but her face turned beet red.

"Watch your language, mister Zabini. I'm no such thing."

"You bedded Draco for trinkets and toys. That's exactly what it's called."

Light dawned on her. It all made sense, now. Malfoy had been a bit skittish when he spoke of the bet he and "his friend" had made, sure she'd take badly to it. Kid's play.

"Oh! No, the record needs to be set straight there. Draco Malfoy never has and never will lay a hand on me."

It was a rather gross thought, anyway.

"And this...?"

He'd included her office in his sweeping gesture. He really was a prat, and getting on her nerves. The audacity to suggest she'd have to sleep her way to a job!

"My _office_. I _work_ here, because I'm good at what I do. Now if you would kindly leave me to it, I have an arithmancy equation to figure out before the day is over."

"Certainly. But you promise Draco will never lay a hand on you?"

Hermione had a long patience, but when it broke, it broke fast.

"That's none of your _business_. Now if you would leave, mister Zabini."

He smirked. For a moment, he reminded her of Malfoy, which just made her angrier.

"But it is. If you swear to it, it would make things much easier."

"I. Don't. Care. The door is behind you."

"Miss Granger, I assure you..."

A spark of light left her wandtip and burned a black mark on the polished wooden floor in front of Blaise Zabini's feet.

"I will not be cajoled, forced or bribed. _Out_!" When he hesitated she held her wand up in duelling position. "I never miss. You can ask your friend next time."

He backed out the door with his hands up, palms outward in front of him, asking her wordlessly to calm down. She didn't want to calm down, damnit!

The door slammed in his face as soon as he'd crossed the threshold.

In bed! With Malfoy! That was another weaselly little... _ferret_ she'd need to have a serious word with.

Both of them were too self-absorbed for their own good, thinking she'd ever play along with such an idiotic scheme.

Nevertheless. It could wait. She had that arithmancy report to catch up on, and hopefully a problem to solve. It would calm her down.


	14. Chapter 14

Blaise, that son of a weasel, had turned up on his doorstep, gloating about Granger's reaction.

At first, Draco had been most interested in not losing the bet. Now, keeping Granger in her place was more important. Finding a replacement to match her skills was much more trouble than it was worth.

Even including the time and effort it would take to teach her manners and straighten out her wardrobe.

He'd have to make sure Blaise hadn't scared her off first, though.

Merlin's bloody underpants! Women were nice, but they had a much too high upkeep, most of the time. Not just monetarily, but a stunning need to always be the centre of attention.

The Manor grounds flew by and he took shortcuts that half the researchers didn't even know existed in his hurry to reach her.

Bursting through the door, he wasn't sure if the absence of broken furniture and other items were a good or a bad sign. The irritation in her gaze as it flickered over to the door, however, was clearly a bad one, so he decided that discretion was a better part of valor.

"Granger, if I..."

The wand that was whipped out caught him off guard, but he had his own out by the time the spell sizzled past his ear anyway.

Wouldn't have helped if the bitch had actually aimed for his head.

"Now, Draco," she said in a dangerously honeyed voice. "Let's do this properly. You put your little toy back in your pocket, back out the door and _knock_ before you enter. Think you can handle that?"

"I didn't..." Swish-and-flick. "_Protego_!"

That time he deflected the spell. It left a nasty black mark in the ceiling. Nothing lethal, but probably highly uncomfortable.

"I thought I made myself clear."

Somehow her false calm made her scarier. He took two steps back and almost had the door shut on his nose.

Sweet Merlin, was this Hermione Granger when she was furious?

How was he ever going to salvage anything out of _that_ wreck?

He started by knocking and was greeted with a vague "come in".

Careful not to get zapped, even though her back was turned, he opened the door and edged inside. She smiled at him over her shoulder, but it wasn't the open and childish smile she'd had the other day. It was a creepy sort of smile that could slip and turn into fury at the littlest provocation.

"Granger."

"Yes, Malfoy?"

He took a deep breath and managed to croak out: "I'm sorry."

Gosh. Pathetic, he was. Why in Merlin's name go to all the trouble? It she wanted to up and leave, he'd still be fine. Malfoys _never _apologised!

"You had better be." Still that creepy, almost motherly voice. "Never make bets you can't stand up for." She put her quill down and turned to look him in the eye.

For brown eyes, they sure managed to be icy.

He pulled himself together and shrugged indifferently.

There was a stillness in the air, that she broke. She walked up to him.

Stood so close he almost wanted to back off, but even though they had a shuttered look about them, her eyes had warmed.

Was she...? He looked down at her in amazement and lifted his hand to touch her cheek, when he suddenly felt a chill point under his chin.

"Don't get any ideas, don't invite me for pointless dinners and never, ever assume I want to be courted by someone like you, you vile little creature."

If there hadn't been a very dangerous weapon right under his chin, it would have fallen open in shock. He was the taller person, her head was tipped backwards to look _up_ at him, and yet _he_ was the intimidated one.

"You're welcome to leave me to do my job, now," she suggested, removing her wand and turning her back on him again.

By the time he'd gathered his wits about him enough to storm out the door, she was humming contentedly to her equations.

Wretched witch! She had better produce results, or he'd fire her quicker than she could say _protego_! She would _not_ humiliate him. He glared at the researchers he passed, making them shrink away from the lightning in his eyes. _They_ knew not to take what they had for granted. _She_ would have to learn.

* * *

><p>Hermione let him run off, allowing herself a little sigh as she went to close the door manually.<p>

She hadn't been half as angry as she came off, but he wouldn't understand the severity of his actions if they weren't handed to him with proper authority.

Really, what she'd wanted to do most of all was laugh with him about it, which would have worked with Harry and Ron, but she was fairly sure he'd have taken badly to that, too. Bloody complicated Slytherins.

Focusing all her effort on the task ahead of her, she soon tuned back into that channel where only work meant anything.

For hours the numbers and words made little sense, until her toil started to slowly unravel the hows of her plan.

It was beautiful, how such little details made such great difference. She hadn't even noticed them at first – a number here, a suffix there. It was going to make a grand difference, her office would be secure and safe with as little fuss as possible.

She'd start on the preparations today and spend the following couple of days finishing the complex set of spells needed.

First things first, however, she thought with a smile and sat down to pen another letter.

_Dear Neville_

_I don't know what got into me, but I couldn't resist the temptation of having my own research office. I'm sure, now, that it was the right decision, however doubtful that might seem. I made sure that I am hired as a consultant, so if he decides to revert to any funny business..._

She stopped and smirked. 'Revert' indeed. All this had started because of 'funny business', but she wasn't about to complain.

_...I'll be safely owning all my work. _

_You're very welcome to come visit as soon as you like. Since I'm only probationary here, we'll see if it lasts. I'm enclosing a Portkey. Activate it with "Primula Wizardosa". I'll come to meet you as soon as I can._

_I must get back to my work, now, these enchantments are dreadfully complicated and I haven't much time._

_Sincerely_

_Hermione_

With a smile, shefolded the letter and Transfigured an envelope, Apparated to her apartment and walked to the postbox.

The weather was still too hot. Sometimes, being a witch had its advantages.


	15. Chapter 15

Hermione was awoken by a furious knock on her door.

It was still dark! Who was even up this late? Or early she decided, after a glance at her digital alarm turned up a glowing red 05:26.

"Coming, coming."

She squirreled into a bathrobe and headed dark-eyed for the door.

Her mysterious visitor turned out to be Neville, breath caught in his throat, presumably from running.

"'Mione, let me in, please."

He rarely turned to the short form of her name, but she simply filed away the information and stood aside.

Skittishly, he walked inside and almost pulled the door closed out of her hands, odd behaviour for the usually calm and sweet young man.

"What's happened?"

His worry was contagious, but his grip on her shoulder was firm.

"You've got to know, Hermione, I was up reading the _Prophet_ with my breakfast and you were on the _front page_! With _Malfoy_!"

A little too much so early in the morning, apparently, because Hermione swore.

"What in Merlin's name are they making up _now_?"

He handed her a bunch that turned out to be an ill-handled edition of the _Daily Prophet_. Without a word, she straightened the front page out.

_Malfoy-Granger?_

_Our ever-attentive reporter has come upon news from the Malfoy household. Our very own warhero, Hermione Granger, friend of the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, has been seen for the first time in years – flirting with the heir to the Malfoy fortune!_

_A mere day later, the aforementioned Granger accepted the highly unusual offer of a position as Head Researcher for the family's prestigious Research centre..._

A quick glance proved the rest of the article to be similar. Lies, wrapped up in just enough truth to make it stick. She'd been through this once before.

"They're all but saying straight out that I... that we... _Ugh_!"

It was a pretty picture, however, but how they'd managed to get hold of it, she'd never know. It really was surprisingly good. She was leaning against the balcony of Malfoy Manor, smiling. The blonde prat had a likeable expression, his face turned to her as he said something unreadable, before hedging a hand onto hers.

She remembered that, vaguely.

Just after the scene cut, she'd pulled her hand away and tried to act casually. It was the only actual move he'd made on her, as far as she knew, and some insolent reporter had managed to clip that picture just then.

"He... that kind of thing is of no concern to me." She wanted to sound more sure than she was.

Would this effect her career? She didn't want to leave her position, not so soon after finally remembering what she _truly_ wanted to do with her life.

Sure, a quiet bookshop on a back street was nice, but she'd liked being back at the centre of things, and now this article jeopardized her chances to stay in the fray. The rest of the world would be on her heels at work every day, since they couldn't find her at home.

This could be disaster.

"I need to go to work. I was going to put up some sturdier privacy wards there, anyway."

"Do you want company? I can ask madam Sprout to get the day off."

She smiled at the one friend she still had left.

"That'd be nice."


	16. Chapter 16

He didn't understand why the maid scurried away so quickly after leaving the morning newspaper. Not until he picked it up and nearly spat a mouthful of tea at the front page.

"Malfoy-Granger?"

His voice was a hiss, a furiously incensed rasp of breath.

The picture's location served only to make it worse. How dare they invade his private grounds! Only the look on their faces softened him a bit.

It was a well-planned picture indeed. With her frizz and clothes near-hidden by the dark, their skin and her smile contrasted so much more. His hand stood out like a white ghost against the shadows on the balcony.

Nevertheless, a picture like that should never have been published without his express permission. He would wring their pompous little necks, bankrupt their fancy little newspaper if he had to! Draco Malfoy, heir and head of the oldest and most powerful family in Wizarding Britain, would have their insolent hides for this.

Bacon and poached eggs left to go cold, he strode into action.

Afterwards, he would rue the decision to go first to Carreg Manor and then to the _Prophet_'s headquarters. The moment he Apparated to the gates, he was set upon by a horde of journalists – some didn't even seem to be British!

"Mister Malfoy, any comment on your relationship with miss Granger?"

"How long have you two been seeing each other?"

"What will this mean for the Malfoy name?"

"Are you heartbroken that she rejected you?"

He adapted his best Malfoy Superiority glare and ruthlessly elbowed himself through the crowd. Once he was in through the grand doors, at least, he would be safe.

Safe, that was, if one didn't count a horde of panicking scientists as trouble. He did.

They were all over the place and just as it was the reporters were barely contained outside.

It was like fighting a war against the weather with only headless chickens at your disposal. His face darkened considerably. Where was their so-called Head Researcher? She should be here, it was her job to organise group efforts.

Damn them all.

"_Silencio_!"

For another moment, they all kept running around. Then, as they realised the noise had gone from deafening to non-existent, they calmed down a tad. Enough to look around and see him.

He let the spell fall, but the noise level barely rose.

"This is an outrage. I expected more from you." Someone started to complain. Blind fools. "_Silence_! You, go clean the lavatories with a toothbrush! The rest of you... supposedly, you are the brightest in all Britain."

Nobody dared point out that they were only second-brightest. Who knew what an angry Malfoy could come up with?

"Split up into groups of three and come up with _one_ good idea within the coming fifteen minutes. I want those insects off my land."

At least they seemed comfortable taking orders.

_He_ had a chat to be had, with the silly girl who was the root of the problem.

He strode like a menacing storm through the corridors, sent people scattering like leaves just from seeing him.

The double-doors of the Head Office, had a soft glow about them, like a fine mist just as it was dissipating. Draco Malfoy frowned.

Then the doors opened and an unexpected character stepped out.

"_Longbottom_?"

The man winced at the tone. "I can't let you in. You'll ruin the ritual." It was said with confidence, despite the fact that he was obviously scared nigh witless.

"What's she up to in there and why isn't she doing her job?"

Longbottom shrugged nervously. "I don't know. She just said that she's almost finished and she mustn't be disturbed."

For a moment, Draco wasn't sure if he'd break down the door and send the useless witch flying anyway, but there was something in Longbottom's eyes that suggested he might have trouble with that.

Ending up in childish fisticuffs with _that_ man wasn't going to impress anyone.

"How long?"

"We honestly don't know, but it shouldn't be long now. She's been working on it since we came here and that's hours ago."

That sounded suspiciously planned ahead of schedule, but it wouldn't make any difference to discuss it with this oaf. He'd have to be patient. Not one of his stronger qualities.

Luckily, some ten minutes later, just as he was about to reassess his choice to let her finish whatever she was doing, the door opened.

* * *

><p>Hermione had to thank her lucky stars – or in this case the timing of an insane article – that she'd had all the preparations already in place.<p>

She'd been forced to shorten the ritual, remove everything they could do without. Even at a bare minimum it was exhausting.

Neville had been beside her the entire time, bringing necessities like water and breakfast at regular intervals.

When, in the break between one step and the next, Neville was suddenly not there, she realised how desperately focused she'd been. Was he alright? How long had she been working with this? She was nearly finished, she'd told him so earlier.

Wiping the sweat from her forehead and getting wisps of sweat-soaked hair out of her face, she decided that the last part could wait a moment longer. Neville was more important, right now.

She found him outside the door, waiting with Malfoy.

"Not long now," she said, a bit thrown by how raw her voice sounded.

To be exhausted and weak in front of Malfoy wasn't her favourite thing in the world, but it didn't matter either. He stood up, looking a little uncertain but otherwise projecting his usual confidence.

"What are you doing?"

She glared at him. If she'd had words to spare, he would have been in trouble.

"Making this a fortress."

She had to save her words for the last two chants in the ritual.

Neville rose and walked off. He'd be fetching more water. Soon, she would be able to sleep a little. She was so tired.

"The others were completely distraught, you didn't think to inform anyone?"

Why in the name of all that was holy would the others be upset? Surely, they had little to do with this? She shrugged uncomfortably. There hadn't even been anyone awake when she arrived.

Her friend, her rock, Neville returned and handed her a bottle. He'd heated the water a little, so it would soothe her parched throat better. A nod and a weak smile were all he got, but he smiled back and she knew it was all he needed.

"I'll continue."

"Wait. You haven't really explained anything at all."

Malfoy. The little cretin thought she was doing this because it was _funny_?

"No time."

"You'll find time or go back where you came from."

The thought was two-edged. It would save her from this mess, put her safely back in a land where nobody cared if she dated or not, if she turned into an old lady with twenty cats and a bookshop. Unfortunately, it would also take away the wonder and magnificence of all _this_. Her office and her shelves and her perfectly wonderful little potions lab.

"I can leave," she conceded. She didn't want it enough to deal with all this. "But I finish what I started."

Waterbottle in hand, she sent Neville a glance that clearly asked him to keep the ferret in check, before slamming the door in their faces.

This would be the last part of her journey. It ended here, one way or another.


	17. Chapter 17

"I can leave, but I finish what I started."

Cocky witch! She was already worn down, he didn't need to be a doctor to see that. She could barely speak and he wasn't even sure if she knew what she was doing.

Half the time, she was swaying on her feet and the rest she was wiping droplets from her forehead.

And that bloody oaf was causing her to just keep going without stopping to think.

"Get out of my way," he growled.

But Longbottom didn't move. There was fear and weakness in his eyes, but something had passed between them before she went back in and he could only conclude it was to the effect of keeping Draco himself out of this.

"She doesn't know what she's doing, whatever ritual she's working on, it's too much for her."

"I can't let you in, Malfoy. You'll distract her."

"She'll distract herself, before long." He snorted disdainfully. "She might make it, stubborn bloody witch, but she has a better chance of that with help."

It was featherbrained, every last bit of it. From her idea to his intervention.

If she didn't leave after this mess, he'd fire her ass so hard she wouldn't be getting another job in years.

Longbottom seemed to decide that he had a point. So there was a brain underneath the brawn and bravery. Gryffindors.

He didn't wait for the man to open the door, but marched in himself.

The whole room was crackling with magic. It was almost visible, creating subtle nuances in the air.

Her voice was carrying without doubt or hesitation, despite sounding like something scavenged from a scrap heap. What in Merlin's name had made her go at something like this to begin with, much less alone? She could've used one or two of the researchers for backup. Then, perhaps, it wasn't her style. Stupid woman.

He felt small spark of respect for her, despite himself.

Her way of looking at things was so far removed from his own, that he couldn't even see the reasons behind it. That didn't mean he couldn't value it, occasionally.

The room was in disarray, but the main desk held only one roll of parchment.

"She wanted to secure this place, because she said this was where they would show up," Longbottom noted. He still had one foot in and one foot outside.

And "they" had.

Draco didn't answer, merely rolled the parchment up and scanned the writings.

"She said that-..."

"Shut up, Longbottom." Even if he provided some insight into how the insane witch had thought, he couldn't be bothered with unimportant details right now.

There were things to be done. Most of all, he'd realised that he had gone about this in the wrong way. There was no way they could help Granger now. She was alone in this, once she'd started.

It was an incredibly complex spell. Mindboggling in its original form.

The full version would have taken days to complete, or so it seemed, but she'd left out long paragraphs, cut it down to a fraction of its original size and taken out much of the time allotted to rest and recuperation.

It still meant the two idiots had been here four or five hours, already.

Her raspy chanting was proof of that, as well as her shaking hands as she reached for the implements. And the fact that she didn't even seem to notice that she had company.

With a sigh he took out some fresh parchment from her desk, dipped a quill in some ink and started to write.

He ignored Longbottom's worried gaze. There was nothing to be had from getting upset, now, but perhaps he could make the necessary arrangements for later.

They would be there when she finished.


	18. Chapter 18

It was like a choir of angels sang in her ears when she finally finished.

The world sparkled in millions of colours and a wave of magic swept from her core out into the house.

She'd done it.

There was a sense of pride in that.

She fell to her knees, but Neville was there and picked her up.

The world spun and for a moment she had to fight nausea. The cold grey eyes in Malfoy's face didn't speak a word, but she heard his voice.

"Stupid job for you to have. You're fired, Granger. Sign here."

If she had the energy, she'd have said something intelligent. Or at the very least spat him in the face, to soften the murder in Neville's eyes. Instead, she just lifted her limp hand and swish-flicked her wand in the proper motion.

A neat little signature appeared at the bottom of the paper.

So easily was it over.

"Friends?"

That had been Malfoy's voice, too. One of them was insane, and she wasn't sure who.

Hell, she'd been through too much to let something as small as being fired from the best chance she'd ever had...

"Sure," she gasped, before she buried her face in Neville's shirt to keep the tears from showing.

So tired.

"Take her down the hall. There's a bedroom there with her name on it."

Time became nothing and next she remembered she was tucked in between soft sheets, a heavy weight at her side, Neville's big hand stroking her hair.

It was safe. She could sleep.

* * *

><p>"How could you do that?"<p>

So Gryffindor, always on the warpath. At least he'd waited until she fell asleep and they were out of the room.

"Calm down. She wasn't fit for it, so I fired her. She'll be happier that way."

"I don't think you're the right person to decide that, _Malfoy_."

He smirked. So Longbottom had acquired spark, somewhere along the way. He was still so scared he shook like a leaf at a level gaze, though.

"And I suppose you'd have left her in a position where she couldn't do her job?"

"You didn't even give her a chance! She _trusted_ you, even though you've never deserved it, she worked like..."

This wasn't funny. "Longbottom, you're poking sticks at dark places because you don't know what's in them. Now go back where you came from. I'll make sure someone's with her when she wakes up, if you're afraid she'll get lonely without you."

They certainly had been cuddly enough at the end.

He had work to do, and a position to fill.

The words spat behind him fell like rain off goose feathers. Always more work.


	19. Chapter 19

When she finally awoke, she was alone.

As soon as she looked around, she corrected that statement.

Silver-haired and dark-clad, he sat with his back to her at a desk in the far end of the room.

He... he'd fired her.

Oh well, that put an end to those ideas. Perhaps it was for the better.

"Iffy, will you take this to madam Rosier. Come back afterward, I need someone to look after our guest. I promised that bumbling clown she wouldn't be alone when she woke up."

That was nice of him.

Except the part where he called Neville a bumbling clown, but that was expected – it was Malfoy.

She sat up, only to notice that all the muscles in her body screamed at her. She must've made a sound, because he turned to look at her.

"Don't overdo it, Granger. You seem to like pushing yourself further than you should."

Malfoy being sensitive. Huh. Then she remembered...

"Dhrr..." Parched. Her voice wasn't at all helpful. He pointed to a nightstand by the side of her bed, that turned out to have a glass of water on it.

He was well organised. She wasn't quite ready to call him "nice" again, though.

The water ran down her throat like the life-giver it was, soothing and sweet. A thoughtful crease appeared as she put it back.

"Did you mean what you said, earlier?" It was just a whisper, but it was all she could manage.

"That you're fired? Yes."

She smiled sadly. That hadn't been what she meant at all. That part was easy to understand and completely in line with his usual persona.

"No, you said 'friends'."

He lit up like a beetroot Christmas tree. So it had been a hallucination or a moment of weakness, then. Nothing he'd ever admit he...

"I may have. Why?"

The smile turned a little wicked at his hedging the question. So he had admitted. How odd.

The real answer was that she didn't have very many of those, but she merely let silence take its place and leaned back against the pillows.

He gratefully accepted the extended silence and relaxed a little.

"Potter and Weasley seem to have been rather upset by the morning news. My poor house-elves had to take care of two Howlers each from them, not to mention a dozen others. Apparently I had more or less kidnapped you and kept you locked up in a dungeon, or something."

It was so like the two of them. Her giggle sent her coughing, though, and when it finally stopped Malfoy sat on the edge of the bed with the water glass in his hand.

"I told you not to overdo it. That stupid thing you fiddled with this morning was bad enough."

She frowned at him, but decided to leave it be in favour of accepting the drink of water. He'd almost admitted to asking for her friendship, and sitting by her while she slept, so he'd earned some slack.

The water was still chilled. Magic, again. Sometimes she was surprised by the everyday use of it, having lived so long without.

"I'll take care of Harry and Ron, don't worry. I can even go so far as to tell the press I'm not being held against my will."

There was amusement in that, though she hated the thought of talking to the press, and he seemed to appreciate the absence of their usual enmity. Perhaps he was as bored with it as she was.

"Well, perhaps I should get home."

He raised an eyebrow with a question in it.

"These aren't exactly my rooms anymore, I mean. I'll come back and clean up the office as soon as I'm feeling better, ok?"

"That brings us to the contract you signed just before passing out, I believe."

He looked incredibly smug. She _had _put a signature on something before, but hadn't that just been...?

* * *

><p>"That brings us to the contract you signed just before passing out, I believe."<p>

Her brown eyes went wide and her mouth fell open just a little. For unending moments she just sat there, her brain taking in the full extent of what he'd said.

"You... you... you _bastard_! You have no _right_!"

He couldn't help himself. He laughed. That she wanted to hit him repeatedly was not a question of any doubt, so he fished the parchment out of his robes and held it out defensively in front of him.

It was fun to play pranks on her, but she'd been through a bit already.

"Don't kill me, alright? Just read it."

She unrolled it carefully, almost as if she was afraid of what it contained. He watched her like a hawk as she read through, at first trying to conceal the pain, then gradually realising that the early paragraph about losing her job was just that – early.

Not a sound did she make, but her sparkle in her wide eyes and the colour that rose to her cheeks gave her away.

"You're still ill suited to be in that position, but what better way to get you in a position where I really need you than to kick you when you're down, so to speak?"

"You're making me an independent researcher?"

"It took you less than two days to prove that you were lousy at the management side of things." She flinched, but didn't deny it. "A lesser man might have said that you were too intelligent, but the truth is that it's just something you're shoddy at."

He wasn't in the mood for lying, even though it might have spared her some embarrassment.

"You... I... thank you, Draco."

He grinned a little, not sure if the use of his first name was intentional, and not sure if he wanted to make a fuss of it.

"You're welcome. You may have that talk with your overprotective friends now, if you like."

They said their farewells. The customary kisses goodbye seemed to catch her by surprise. They had, after all, never really been civil to each other.

He would stand on good form, though. As long as was reasonable.

She smiled, anyway, before she left. He'd offered to see her to the door, but she just shook her curls and said it wasn't a problem.

Well, there. Perhaps there was a better tomorrow, after all.


End file.
